Page 8 of Devil May Lie

Not at all a skill Berga possessed, and not one he’d particularly wanted to get closer to.

Typically, he preferred smaller men—and he didn’t just mean in terms of stature. Whenever he did need to scratch the itch, he tended to take impressionable, easily manipulated men to his bed. Ones who wouldn’t question or hesitate to follow his strict set of instructions and rules.

Berga hadn’t even had the chance to rattle off a single one of those rules before he’d found himself trapped and bent over, his ass presented to the Retinue member as though he had a right to take him any way he pleased.

He was the Butcher of the Brumal mafia.

No one was allowed to mishandle him and get away with all ten fingers still attached.

Only…

It hurt.

A lot. Probably less than it would have if Madden hadn’t taken the time to open him up a bit—a note Berga filed away for later when he worked on the second batch of Impression—but there was still a pain sharp enough to have him gritting his teeth with every inward and outward pounding of that giant cock.

Berga bit down on his bottom lip, instantly tasting blood, and stopped before it could spread. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d played with his back entrance himself, let alone the last time anyone else had dared touch him there. His body wasn’t used to the intrusion, the sudden stretch of Madden’s cock as he pistoned into him agonizingly.

“Harder.” Berga reached back and grabbed a fistful of one of Madden’s ass cheeks, pulling him against him in time with his harsh thrusts. The pain intensified, as brutal as the Retinue member currently fucking him. He’d blame it on the drug if he could, but the truth was, Berga enjoyed the pain. “Make me bleed.”

Whoa. Had that come from him just now?

Pain was one thing. He’d dedicated his life to discovering all the ways to elicit it without causing unnecessary bloodshed.

Berga shook his head, trying to clear his mind from the lust-filled haze, but before he could grasp any sense, Madden angled his hips and rammed forward, hitting a different spot that had Berga shooting up onto his toes.

He cried out and clutched at the couch, trying to find purchase as his entire body quaked. Thank Light he’d had enough sense to put the condom on himself. At least he wasn’t dripping come all over the cushions—

“Stop.” He fought against the strong hold at the back of his neck, a bit more forcefully this time, and managed to get loose enough to spin and shove Madden off of him.

The Retinue member hit the coffee table, and the wood splintered beneath his weight but otherwise held.

“Condom,” Berga ordered, pointing to the pile next to Madden’s hipbone. “Just put a condom on. Then continue.”

“Fuck that.” Madden shot forward, pouncing onto Berga. He had him on his back across the faded leather, a knee between his thighs, shoving them apart. His cock was already searching for his hole again, hips mindlessly thrusting until he finally bumped against it.

“Wait—” Berga tossed his head back and moaned when Madden reentered him. There was still discomfort, but most of the pain had abated, and he would have been annoyed if not for the sharp bursts of electricity tingling through him with every pump of Madden’s cock. He lifted his arms and wrapped them around the other man, his nails digging into the flesh of his back.

Madden hissed but didn’t pull away, if anything, he settled over him even more, their bodies flush together. His breathing was labored when he turned his head and captured Berga’s mouth in a bruising kiss to rival the beating he was taking lower.

His tongue twirled over Berga’s, fighting for dominance as he responded back. They nipped and sucked at each other’s mouths and lips, though neither broke skin.

This was not at all how Berga intended the night to go. He’d come here searching for his best friend, Flix, not believing that he’d gone off on vacation like he’d texted the group over a week ago. It’d been too long and Berga was worried. Or at least anxious.

But Flix wasn’t here, and he should have left as soon as he’d discovered that fact. Instead, he’d gotten caught up in Madden’s little display, mildly curious what they were doing. As soon as he’d realized it was a bad bet made by an idiot, all of that interest had left him. The headache, however, was there to stay.

It was by happenstance he had Impression with him. Berga didn’t usually carry about that particular drug on his person, but Sila Varun had asked him for some, and ever since Sila had started to date Bay, Berga found it simpler to keep that particular Devil satisfied. It’d made sense to bring enough to pass on to Kelevra as an extra test subject.

He didn’t have time for this, an error in judgement that would cost him.

There were still several people in the Bunker, the Brumal’s dungeon of sorts, that needed sorting through, and Berga had a test tomorrow in his advanced biology class he couldn’t miss. If he’d been able to think straight, he could calculate how long the effects of Impression would last, but unfortunately, he wasn’t able to hold onto a full sentence, let alone do math in his head.

Which might actually be a good thing because if he was in his right state of mind, he’d no doubt be hyperventilating over the fact Madden was slicking his insides with his disgusting bodily fluids.

As if on cue, Madden grunted, burying himself deep before painting Berga’s inner walls with cream. His orgasm rippled through him, causing his body to quiver over Berga’s.

The second he felt him start to relax and, therefore, drop his guard, Berga struck.

He flipped their positions in one move so that Madden was the one lying on his back with Berga between his legs.